


in my restless dreams.

by eoghainy



Category: Silent Hill (2006), Silent Hill (Video Game Series)
Genre: Drabbles, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-05-13 17:41:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14753381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eoghainy/pseuds/eoghainy
Summary: i see that town.





	1. searching.

**Author's Note:**

> this first chapter was based upon a tumblr post i saw where WHAT if chris went into silent hill lookin' for rose & he met rosA ( aka the whole james and maria first meetin' conversation ) and it hurts me i had to write it

The vision of her back turned to him in this disgusting, dirty hellhole of a town was a blessing. Her hair was darker, and her clothes were far more different than what she typically would wear, but it wasn’t like she had much of a choice for clothing stores. 

“Rose?” He asks, his voice still so heavily lilted, breaking with uncertainty at the end. His breath was caught in his throat. If this was her . . .

The figure turns, her short hair fluttering in the wind as she did so. Her eyes were the same blue, and her body was the same, but her hair was darker, and her face creased with more stress lines. Still, she never looked more beautiful to him. Even if this wasn’t his Rose. 

“No, you’re not . . .” The hope that had been fanning in his chest died off.

“Do I look like your girlfriend?” She asked, her voice coy. Rose never looked at him like that, never sounded like that.

“No, my late wife.” He answers, finding that his voice was more clipped than he intended for it to be. “I can’t believe it; you could be her _twin._ Your face, your voice . . . just your hair and clothes are different.” Chris wished, so desperately, that it were his Rose. He had been searching for so long for her, and yet he had _still_ turned up short. There were no leads on what happened to her.

“My name is Rosa.” Not – Rose replies, and Chris murmurs her name underneath his breath like a blessing. “I don’t look like a ghost, do I?” Again, the coyness made her seem like she was mocking him. “See? Feel how warm I am.” She took his hand, pressed it against her left breast, above her heart. Chris jerked his arm away, feeling as if he had been stung by her touch. Rosa she was real. She lived. 

The words were dumb as they came from his mouth, but denial was a bitter mouthful to spit out. “You’re really not Rose!”

“I told you, I’m _Rosa_.” She corrects, her voice laced with aggravation. Her eyes flashed at him with a fierceness that Rose had never shown. At least to him. 

“Sorry,” he apologizes quickly, not wanting to think of Rose anymore. It was too painful. “I was confused.”

She seemed happy enough to have him let it go. “Where are you going?” The way she tilted her head, and the way she curled a lock of her short hair around her finger told him all that he needed to know: she wanted to come with him.

“I’m looking for Rose. Have you seen her?” Another stupid question. If she had seen Rose, she would have told him already. He had asked her enough times.

“Didn’t you say that she died?” Rosa checked, and Chris could only chuckle numbly.

“She’s lost, been so for many years now. I’ve seen her, though. She spoke to me. She said she was trapped.” He waved his hand aimlessly, not knowing how else to explain it. He had seen her in the mirror, in his restless dreams, heard her sad voice as she told him that she was stuck, and that _she_ couldn’t return to _him_. She never said anything about the other way around.

“And that’s _here_?” Something in Rosa’s eyes flickered coldly, and for a brief moment, Chris regretted confiding in her. “Well, seems like you need all the help you can get. I’ll tag along with you, _Chris_. Wouldn’t be wise to leave a lady all alone here.”


	2. don't play with me, because you're playing with fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, i have NO frickin clue where this came from. i found the beginning of it in my notes, so i just ??? kinda pulled shit out of my ass, so sorry it kinda sucks !! i don't remember what my original idea was, but, ig this works lmao

Curiosity always was a fault of Heather’s. Since her time in Silent Hill, her soul had been awoken to her. The true depths of it, the power that she held – or rather – _once_ held. Oft times she found herself sitting by her lonesome, reaching into the deep recesses of herself, probing the second presence within her mind for answers.

Behind her eyes, she could so clearly see the scene unfold. She was sitting cross – legged on a grassy hill, the wind stirring her platinum blonde locks. The sun shone overhead, and her skin was kissed by the warm rays. Alessa sat just beside her, her slender knees folded underneath her body. Beautiful, troubled Alessa; with her long, midnight black hair, and her piercing almond shaped blue eyes. She looked normal, like the woman she had been when she died, not the creature Dahlia turned her into.

There were many similarities between them, more similarities than differences. They had the same soft, sloping jaw, the same button nose, the same perfectly straight, small, white teeth. They had the same piercing blue eyes, but Heather thought that hers were a bit waterier than Alessa’s. They were around the same height, Alessa an inch or so taller due to her advanced age, but had the same body type. The long, lean legs, toned arms, delicate and calloused piano fingers. Both had average, perky breasts, slender hips, and supple bottoms. Though Heather had decided to keep her hair blonde, she was considering letting it grow out – and become dark again.

Her own homage to the woman that came before her.

Heather studied Alessa intently, careful to always look away before Alessa could catch her. She felt flustered, embarrassed by the fact that she was curious about the woman that made her who she is today. They had travelled a long way to get here, to be able to confront each other like this, and it had taken lots of hard work on Heather’s part. She was no witch like Alessa, no. She was unbearably human, so it had taken her much longer to learn.

“I thought you wanted to be called Cheryl,” Alessa finally spoke, her voice as soft as satin. Heather’s was deeper, more callous.

“It’s easier to continue going by Heather for now.” She shrugged. “That’s what all my legal documents say, anyway. Besides . . . the other kid was Cheryl. Heather suits me better.”

Alessa turned those sharp eyes onto her, and Heather fought not to shrink underneath her gaze. “You have questions,” she spoke as if each sentence were fact, not question. It bothered Heather.

“I . . . do.  Many questions. It’s just so hard for me to wrap my head around.”

“You were _in_ Silent Hill.” Alessa didn’t have to remind her of that. “You saw our domain for what it is. For what it _truly_ is.  _I_ am a part of _you_ , Heather. Just as _you_ are a part of _me_.” The woman sighed. “How can you still not wrap your head around what you’ve seen?”

Heather blinked, unable to help but frown. “I didn’t grow up in it like you did, Alessa. My father never told me anything.”

“He wasn’t your father.”

“He _raised me_ and that counts for something to me!” Heather snapped, grief washing over her anew. “He was all I had. And now . . . You’re all that I have, like it or not.”

Alessa didn’t seem to show pity for what Heather was feeling. “I don’t understand you, you’re such a curious creature.” Her eyes were puzzled. “It’s . . . strange. _You’re_ strange.” Her plump lips were pulled down into a frown, though there seemed to be a lack of feeling to the action. Once it would have unnerved Heather, but she knew that the woman was damaged beyond repair; her capacity to feel was destroyed by the abuse she had endured from her mother. “You’re nothing at all like me.” 

“No,” Heather shook her head. “I’m not. I never have been.” They might share blood, similarities, family, but they were far from being the same person. “Alessa . . . Silent Hill still calls to me.” 

“It always will.” Alessa fiddled with a hangnail on her finger. “It was my creation, therefore yours. It will call to you for the rest of your life. You just have to figure out how to ignore it, or decide if you want to go back. What I started never will die, it’s such a powerful magic that it’s scarred Silent Hill forever. You can go back and experience that magic, rule it, or you can fight your instincts until the day you and I both die.”

“I can’t go back.” Heather had already made up her mind. She didn’t realize she had until the words were out of her mouth. She still had nightmares from her childhood and from her most recent experience. Her dreams were haunted by her father, by Vincent, by all the others that had perished. “I can _never_ go back.”

“There, you have your answer.” Alessa’s tone was final. “Are you going to ask me any more questions, or are you going to let me rest?”

Heather scowled. “No, I have more questions. I never bother you.” It was true; though their souls were fused into one, their separate spirits still existed within Heather’s tiny body. Alessa, exhausted from her long, painful existence, mostly stayed silent within Heather. She reared up sometimes when Heather did something Alessa disapproved of, but otherwise kept to herself, so much so that Heather often times forget that she was there.

The first time they had a meeting like this, Heather had tried meditating and reaching out into the corners of her mind for Alessa. The other spirit had proven difficult to find, and only hovered for a moment or two before going back to her quiet corner. She meditated again after that, again, and again, until she had managed to establish this little hidden paradise that she had coaxed Alessa into entering. The first time they had sat in silence together, and the next time they spoke more; a greeting, small talk, goodbyes. And this time, Heather wanted her questions answered. She had given Alessa enough time to get over herself.

“Well, ask. You can’t spend your whole day meditating.” Alessa’s voice was sharp. “You’re going to have to leave eventually.”

“You’re putting me on the spot!” Heather snapped. “When you put me on the spot, I forget what I want to ask!” She was flustered and upset, and Alessa’s snippety attitude never helped. Harry never shared his knowledge of Silent Hill with her; he kept her at arm’s length, soothed her when she had the nightmares, but never told her anything. He would validate what she went through, but not elaborate. Never elaborate. She had his ramblings still, the entries in journals that he had left, but she didn’t feel compelled to read them.

“I want to know about you.” Heather finally collected her thoughts enough to voice what she wanted to say. Enough about Silent Hill; that nightmare was constantly changing and evolving, and Heather didn’t want to spend another moment thinking of it. 

“What _about_ me?” Alessa’s voice was guarded.  

“Anything. Whatever you can tell me. I want to know how similar our lives are. Or, were, rather.” Heather brushed back her hair. It was getting long for her. “Please, Alessa.”

The other woman closed her eyes. She seemed to be preparing herself, and when her eyes opened again, she sighed heavily. “What is there to say? There is nothing similar about the way we were raised. I was raised to believe in the Order. I was abused, burned alive, used as an incubator for a God, split my soul to end my suffering, merged my soul and _then_ reincarnated into you, Heather. You grew up well, I grew up in hell. I never had parents that loved me. I only had one friend. I don’t know what more you want from me. You have all of my memories.”

Heather scowled over her shoulder. She felt inadequate compared to her first counterpart; Alessa had been humbled by her torment and her horrid upbringing, and Heather was a spoiled, bratty, snarky little girl. They couldn’t be even more different if they tried. “I’m . . . sorry, I don’t know what I’m trying to do here. I just . . . we’re the same person, but at the same time, we’re far from it. Please, Alessa. I just want to _know_.” 

“I don’t know what to tell you. You know everything about me, whether you’ve blocked it out or not. You’ve gotten good at that, blocking it all out. Don’t try and pretend; I know you’ve been pushing away my memories, one by one. You still wake up screaming, don’t you? Feeling the fire spread across your skin, the scent of charred flesh and hair stuck in your nose, the agony as the flames curl across your flesh . . . That’s why you started to meditate. Not to get into contact with me, but to banish the bad _shit_ that came with me.” Alessa’s eyes flashed with rage. “You want to get rid of me once and for all.”

“N –” Heather tried to get a word in, but Alessa swept on.

“You’re smart, Heather, I’ll give you that. But you’re not strong. _I_ was strong. I endured the worst of the worst, and I still kept going. I made all the hardest choices in order to take down the Order, no matter what toll it would take upon me. You, Heather, are too _weak_ to endure my memories. They make you who you are, _what_ you are. If you get rid of me, you get rid of a part of yourself, and only then will you realize what you lost.” Alessa had risen to her feet during her ranting and raving. It was the most emotion that Heather had seen from Alessa in, what, _ever_. 

“That’s not what I’m doing! I just want the nightmares to stop!” Heather tried to defend her actions, but it was futile. “I want – . . . Alessa, I have a chance to live a normal life, to move on from all of this. I don’t want to erase our past. All I want to do is make it easier for me in the waking world.” If Alessa was listening, she gave no sign. “I didn’t want to argue, Alessa. I just wanted to know more about _you_.”

Alessa’s silhouette was stiff. “Consult your own memories if you wish to know more.”

Before Heather could say another word, Alessa forced Heather out of her own meditation. The world went swirling into darkness, and her eyes snapped open in the waking world, taking a moment to adjust to the sudden darkness of her room. Blinking, Heather looked at the time, cursing when she realized that she had been speaking to Alessa for _over_ three hours.

Getting off her bed, Alessa scrubbed her palms over her eyes and stood in front of her mirror, frowning at her own disheveled reflection. Meeting her own eyes, which seemed bluer than usual, Heather pointed at the glass, her frown growing deeper.

“I am _not_ trying to get rid of you, Alessa. If I get rid of you, I get rid of me. So, don’t accuse me of trying to ditch you ever again.”

With that, Heather stripped off her ratty sweater and began to find some nice clothes for the date she was looking forward to.


	3. through the valley of the shadow of death.

The blade plunged through chest easily, as if her body was a soft butter.

Christabella held her gaze as her cold knuckles brushed against Rose’s skin lightly. Her eyes were as big as moons, as if she didn’t expect for the knife to plunge so deeply or smoothly. She was shocked, just as shocked as Rose was, but Christabella was quick to recover.

With a quick twist of her wrist and a firm yank, the fanatical woman ripped the blade from Rose’s flesh. Rose’s knees crippled as if the wires holding her up were cut, and she hit the ground with a _thump_ that didn’t register to her ears. Her dirty, bloody hand was pressed against the gaping hole in her chest, almost a vain attempt to keep her blood inside of her. Distantly, she could hear Sharon screaming, hear Christabella ranting, but she did not listen.

By all means, she should be dead. Christabella’s blade should have struck her heart and stopped it immediately, but none of the sort had happened. _The seal,_ the second voice within her head whispered. _Bleed upon the seal. Open the way for me_.

Body jerking upon the floor, Rose managed to crawl up the stairs with one hand upon her wound, unnoticed by Christabella. Thick, black, burning gook fell from between her fingers, splashing against the wooden floor with sharp, angry hisses. Greenish gray smoke puffed from the charred floor, burning the insides of Rose’s nose. Still, despite all the distant screams of her daughter and the agony within her chest, she still managed to crawl, stopping once her fingers brushed against the rim of the seal.

Angling her chest over the deep crater, Rose gasped and choked as the gook came streaming out, burning into the precious occult artwork painted into the floor. As it drained out of her, Rose closed her eyes, remembering so clearly how this came to be.

* * *

_“Christabella will try to kill you.” The child circled around her, her head tilted so that her dark, dirty hair fell into her face. “She will see you as a threat. You must be prepared for it.”_

_“But if you are in me, like you said, it won’t kill me, right?” Rose was kneeling before it, her hands folded neatly on her knee._

_“There are no guarantees.” It answered. It was too much like Sharon, so much so that it scared her. “I am weak from my time of working with Alessa. We have both been drained in her nightmare. My power might not be enough to protect you, Rose. You run the risk of becoming a_ part _of Silent Hill. Is this a risk you are willing to make?”_

 _There was no hesitation from Rose. “I am willing. For Sharon, I would do anything.” She was terrified for her daughter, for what Christabella would do to her. “I would do anything for her.”_

_It blinked at her. Its eyes were so dark that Rose feared that there would be no end to the blackness within it. It was the refraction of Alessa, Rose knew, a tiny part of her. This demon had ulterior motives; it was after something more, and Rose feared the repercussions. That would be something to deal with later, when she and Sharon were clear of this nightmare._

_“You are giving Alessa and I a great gift, Rose. We will never forget what you have done for us.” The demons gaze was blank, though her voice was warm. “We thank you.”_

_Rose stood, feeling a strange surge of affection for the tiny demon and Alessa. “Thank you for helping me with Sharon.” She whispered, and prepared herself for the merging of her soul and the demons._

* * *

Everything in the chapel began to change. The darkness began to enter its way into the only safe space left in Silent Hill, changing to the hellscape that Rose had seen enough times. On shaky legs, she stood, her flesh knitting back together as if it had never been split in the first place. She felt as if her body had been battered to hell and back, exhaustion pulled at the corners of her mind, but still she stood, staring at Christabella with all the rage of a pissed off mother, abused and tortured child, and a frightened town.

Christabella knew what was happening, of course. She knew the signs. Rose had truly put the fear of God in her.

No, not God. _Alessa_.


End file.
